Breathless
by Sheep on springs
Summary: In a world where same sex relationships are illegal, Imogen Drill discovers a secret that will change the way she lives forever. She soon enters a fight for equality that shows her more of the world, and of a certain witch, than she ever dared to imagine.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Constance Hardbroom did not usually listen to the radio. To be more precise, she could not bear to have the contraptions in her presence. Human kind had survived thousands of years without such a noisy and often fuzzy means of long distance communication. What was wrong with writing someone a letter or reading about news in a newspaper? Constance harrumphed loudly at the infuriating noise but Imogen Drill, the owner of the radio, had learned to ignore her college's strops. There was nothing wrong with hearing a bit about the outside world every so often, especially when she was stuck with a school of witches in a medieval castle for nine months of the year.

Constance was less than impressed. She could almost remember the days when one could spend a peaceful, productive lunch hour in the staffroom and complete one's daily marking without that obscene racket coming from the corner. There really was no need for Amelia to allow such behaviour from a junior member of staff. Constance opened her mouth to tell Imogen precisely how she felt but was interrupted by the beginning of the lunchtime bulletin:

"Government forces responded to a mass riot in Swindon today. They were forced to use tear gas against the pro-homosexuality demonstrators who attacked police with stones and what appeared to be home-made grenades. Government reports so far state that three of the demonstrators were shot on the scene while forty-two arrests were made. Tests will be carried out promptly on those arrested to determine sexual orientation."

Miss Cackle shook her head looking weary. "I just don't know what's wrong with some people. All of those things are illegal for a reason. Why can't all those men just marry a nice woman and get on with their lives? It's the families I feel sorry for though. Imagine knowing you had a child like that." She shook her head in disbelief and helped herself to one of Miss Bat's pansy cakes from the table. Constance, realising her mouth was still open, closed it and continued to stare at the remaining unmarked essays. Her gaze had not moved since the beginning of the announcement. Another riot. That was the sixth this month if she wasn't mistaken, and she very rarely was. The pro-homosexuality groups were getting braver and more persistent than ever. Constance had lived through decades of mild resistance but had never dared to hope for something so extreme. She pressed her lips together so that they almost disappeared. It was difficult to predict where these new events would lead. She certainly was not naïve enough to think that a sudden eruption of protesters and demonstrations were enough to change any laws, especially a law as ingrained and fiercely defended as this.

"Is everything quite alright Constance?" Amelia's concerned gaze watched Constance over the top of her glasses. "You've been awfully quiet today."

Constance gave a start at the mention of her name. "And how am I expected to say anything and be heard over that infuriating machine?" she asked angrily, motioning towards Imogen's radio. She gathered her papers together and left the room for somewhere quieter to concentrate.

Imogen rolled her eyes as she watched the witch storm out of the door. There had been a time when that sort of behaviour would have annoyed or even upset her but over the years she had learned to shrug it off. It was just the way Constance Hardbroom was and no power on Earth could do anything to change that. On the radio the lunchtime broadcast had ended and was replaced by music but Imogen was far too deep in thought to notice. As she squeezed a wedge of lemon over her tea – another practice that usually annoyed Miss Hardbroom – she thought about the implications of today's riot. Things had been getting more and more fiery between pro-homosexuality groups and the government over the last few years as homosexuals and their supporters got braver. Did this mean that things would finally get better? After years of repression and secrecy could there finally be a change to the law? This could be what Imogen had been wishing for since her school years. She almost didn't dare to hope now that things were moving so fast. There were even whispers of a referendum if you knew where to listen but even Imogen Drill could not believe that the government would allow something so revolutionary as yet. It seemed now that they were doing all they could to steer the course of events in the exact opposite direction. Imogen sighed, trying to remind herself never to give up hope. One day attitudes would change. Until then she would just have to remain... careful.

"Oooh I _love _this song!" Davina squealed with delight as the music on the radio changed. In one movement she bounded from her chair into the middle of the room, sending the remaining cakes she had been icing straight into Amelia's cup of tea. The headmistress sighed softly as she tried in vain to salvage the cakes from her hot cup. Biscuits were always nice dipped in tea but cakes were never quite the same for it. Davina didn't seem to notice as she added singing to her dance act.

"Just leave with me now, say the word and we'll goooo, I'll be your teacher I'll show you the roooopes!"

Fortunately for Imogen and Amelia the bell sounding the end of lunch rang before Davina could finish singing along. Imogen laughed quietly to herself at the look of disappointment on her college's face as she left the staffroom for the main courtyard where she would be playing netball with the fourth years. They only had two weeks left to practice before the regional tournament and Imogen was using all the spare time she and the girls had for training. They were the best team the academy had ever seen – although truth be told there had only ever been one other team before them – and she had very high hopes for them. Elspeth Everoot made an excellent captain and had sailed her team through the qualifying stages. Her team talks and skill on the court were both extremely impressive and Imogen could see her going far in the sport. It was rare to see such talent in an academy so averse to sport and Imogen saw it as her private mission to give the girl the best chance at a sports scholarship. As she turned the corner her thoughts were interrupted by a very familiar voice, a voice that sounded decidedly unimpressed with something.

"Girls! As deplorable as your memory may frequently be, I do not believe for an instant that you all just happened to forget your extra-curricular potions class this afternoon." Miss Hardbroom towered over Imogen's netball team, formidable as ever in front of the nervous girls as though daring them to explain themselves. They shuffled awkwardly, each seeming to find something fascinating about their boots, until Griselda Blackwood summoned the courage to explain.

"We have netball training Miss. It's just that it's hard to find time when we're all free and we really need to practice and..." Her voice trailed off under Miss Hardbroom's unblinking stare.

"Netball, girls?" Constance's words dripped with distaste as she surveyed the team. "Your marks in potions this term have been atrocious and yet you wish to waste your time playing games? I'm speechless! Down to the potions lab with you all immediately. And don't try to argue Griselda Blackwood, of all people I would have thought better of you."

Imogen watched in fury as her netball team was herded down the corridor towards the potions lab. What right did that infuriating woman have to infringe on her already limited training time? She briefly considered telling the girls to stop what they were doing and follow her. After all, she had planned this training session a good week before and she would have so dearly loved to have taught Constance Hardbroom some manners. So what was stopping her? Although she could almost believe she was asking herself seriously, Imogen already knew the answer. No-one told Constance Hardbroom what to do, least of all a lowly junior member of staff whose subject's purpose at a school for witches was questionable at the best of times. Imogen seethed as she stalked back to her rooms. When she reached them she stayed only to find her music player and left again for a run in the woods. It was no secret that Imogen loved running, she was a P.E. teacher after all. Her morning runs gave her time to go over her lesson plans for the coming day, while in the evening it helped to clear her head no matter what had happened that day. There was no doubt in her mind that the anger she felt this afternoon would definitely be calmed, if not lost altogether, through a woodland run. With this thought fresh in her mind she sprinted through the corridors and out into sun.

Imogen Drill was not the only person in a foul mood that afternoon as two hours after she left the castle the bell rang signalling the end of classes. Elspeth Everoot stalked out of the potions lab without a glance at her team around her. She couldn't believe the nerve of the potions mistress! Fourth years were at the age where they began specialising in their subjects in the run up to exams meaning it was near impossible to find a training time that suited everyone. Regionals were only two weeks away and despite Miss Drill's optimism about the team, Elspeth knew they weren't ready. If they made use of every training opportunity then there was a chance they could put up a good fight but after what had happened today Elspeth was not sure they would be able to. Everyone knew Miss Hardbroom thought P.E. was a waste of time and seeing the girls spending so much of their time practicing must have been crossing a line for her. Hearing that strict voice instructing them to return again next week was too much for Elspeth and she resolved to do something about it. Speak to Miss Cackle perhaps? That might work, the headmistress was known as being much kinder and better at listening than Miss Hardbroom. She would take Griselda with her for support, and so it didn't look like she was just in a huff over the extra potions lessons. If Miss Cackle saw that it was the opinion of the whole team she might be more likely to understand. She scanned the corridor for her teammate and spotted her next to the wall whispering something to Fenella Feverfew. Fenella looked very excited about whatever she was being told, but there was a hint of something else too. Nervousness perhaps? Elspeth decided not to enquire. The pair were well known for their pranks and she didn't want to be part of something that could tarnish her reputation. No-one could have called Elspeth a teachers' pet, she was too fond of answering back to Miss Hardbroom for that, but her grades were perfect and her record was clean, and she planned to keep it that way. She would explain her plan to Griselda later, after the pair had finished whatever planning they were doing of their own. For now Elspeth would have to content herself with taking her frustrations out on a ball in the courtyard.

It was almost dark by the time Imogen returned from the woods and began to jog the short path back to the castle. Her mood had lifted considerably since she left as she had known it would. The forest around the castle was beautiful with a hundred and one distractions from everyday life. In the dark, however, it could also be deadly and it was this alone that drove Imogen back to the castle each night. Her run tonight had been more productive than most as she turned all her frustration into planning. These plans mostly involved game strategies for her fourth year team but she had also decided to speak to the Headmistress about Miss Hardbroom's actions. It would all be done in private of course, the potions mistress was far too intimidating to be present. She would just have raise that eyebrow of hers at Imogen's suggestions and the netball team would have no hope. No, private was best. Perhaps over a cup of tea and some biscuits. Imogen was sure Amelia would see her point of view that way. This thought lasted only long enough for her to take a few more steps until it was forgotten entirely. Imogen almost stopped in her tracks as she noticed someone walk silently away from her through the shadows.


	2. Chapter 2

_Sorry it's taken me so long to update! I have so much work this year :( I hope you enjoy the new chapter though. Sos xx_

**Chapter 2**

Constance sighed as the last of her pupils filtered from the lab. The abilities, or rather the lack thereof, shown by the girls over the past two hours had been proof beyond doubt that they were not ready for their end of year exams. She sat at her desk with her hands clasped in front of her, each index and little finger touching its counterpart as was her accustomed thinking position. The girls' concentration that afternoon had been appalling and Constance had heard more than one grumble about netball. Despite her usual intolerance for such behaviour she had found it easy to ignore today. Indeed, she had found it very difficult to concentrate on anything that afternoon. This uncharacteristic behaviour unnerved her and yet there was nothing she could do about it. Ever since her lunch in the staff room that news bulletin was all she could think about. Today's riot was by no means a one off incident and although Constance had originally been sceptical as to whether it really could affect society she was no longer quiet as sure. Although most of the girls' whispers had been fuelled by her actions, there had also been something else. A few of the girls who perhaps had access to radios or were sympathetic to the ideas of the demonstrators had heard the news. Constance had heard excited, naïve whispers of laws changing and freedom for 'those poor people' in her classroom and through the corridors. It was true, she conceded, that not many girls seemed to have heard but a few was certainly better than none. And it got them thinking. Wasn't that what demonstrations were for, after all? They brought to light flaws in society and challenged people's ideas towards them. Constance still firmly believed that this sort of action was not powerful enough to change government agenda, certainly not overnight. But perhaps if enough people were encouraged to challenge their ideas and understand the suffering undergone by those unfortunate enough to get caught, the opinions of society at large could begin to change. And where society went, government opinion and even laws would inevitably have to follow. It would take time though, that Constance knew well.

As she stood to clear her desk and return to her rooms Constance felt her necklace caress the skin of her breastbone and her short lived optimism ended. She pulled the chain out from underneath her high necked black dress and ran her fingers over the silver double-headed axe that hung from it. Although now smooth from years of wear, she could still remember when she first saw it, hanging around that slim neck on its chain that was just slightly too thick, the knotted pattern working its way around the haft. The way it shook on her chest as she laughed-

Constance's stomach dropped sharply as she realised where her thoughts were headed and she stopped them abruptly as she stepped out of the potions lab. It did not do to dwell on things one could not change, she had learned that long ago. She walked briskly down the corridors, chivvying the last few stragglers down to the dinner hall as she went. She had to tell Fenella and Griselda twice to hurry along as the pair ambled through the halls, deep in conversation. That was always a bad sign and Constance made a mental note to keep a close eye on the pair over the next few days. It would give her something to focus her wondering thoughts on, if nothing else, though Constance suspected it would take more than some misbehaving students to do that.

* * *

It was getting dark and close to lights out as Griselda walked purposefully through the draughty corridors of Cackle's Academy. As she went she ticked off the names on her short mental list and realised that there were only two people left to visit. She and Fenny had spent most of this afternoon deciding between them who should make the list but it had turned out very small as there were a good number of girls they had had to reject out of uncertainty. This annoyed Griselda still but she understood Fenny's caution. They couldn't afford to get caught. She quickly rounded the corner and found herself outside the door she had been looking for. Something inside her told her to wait, told her she should be nervous, but she silenced it as she had outside the last three doors. It was not long at all until lights out and she didn't have time to waste worrying if they had put the right girls on the list. So she gritted her teeth and knocked.

* * *

Constance Hardbroom sat at the desk in her bedroom, the elbows she was leaning on surrounded by first year marking. She had tried in vain to start it, to at least get through one of the piles, but her thoughts it seemed would not be diverted from their desired path. Looking at the untouched work, she finally conceded defeat. The window above her desk looked out onto a dark, clear night. The moon and stars lit up the grounds below, sending long shadows from the tall pine trees in the forest. Looking across the grounds, Constance felt her stomach tighten like a belt inside her as she realised she could no longer run from the thoughts that had been chasing her all day. The actions of multiple underground groups – though perhaps underground was now the wrong term – in showing themselves in protest before the people and the government, had struck a surprising cord with Constance. She had certainly never expected to feel so strongly about what was going on. Of course in her teenage years she had held great sympathy for such groups, a feeling which had continued into her early twenties until she realised that such action would always come at a cost. She had been lucky to last as long as she had in those circles. It was obvious now that it had only been a matter of time before someone made a mistake. Constance gritted her teeth as she tried in vain to banish the memories from her mind. Picture upon picture filled her head in an unstoppable flood of images. The current was so strong that it pulled Constance along, threatening to suck her under as the memories swarmed around her from every angle. She felt the once familiar helplessness press down upon her like flowing concrete. She had to get out before it set fast. Why couldn't someone else have made the mistake?

Constance jumped up from her seat as if from a branding iron, knocking the table in the process and scattering papers across the floor. She paid no heed to the mess and instead grabbed her travelling cloak from its peg by the door as she left the room. Her steps rang through the corridor as she hurried towards the entrance doors. Some part of her knew she took a serious risk in making such a loud exit, it was bound to attract the attention of anyone still awake. However, this same part of her also knew that if she stopped long enough to think about what she was doing, she would most likely turn around and go back to her rooms instead. Back to the life she had spent the last fifteen years creating for herself. No, it was best to continue. Was it really fifteen years? By now Constance had reached the broomsheds where she headed instinctively for her broom. Her hand hovered above it as she looked back over her shoulder into the courtyard. The night was still a clear one, with moonlight illuminating the grounds around the school. As a teacher, Constance knew she had every right to travel wherever she wanted, even at this time of night, but the risk of getting caught was still not one she was prepared to take. Leaving her broom in its place she continued out of the grounds, keeping to the shadows beside the wall.

* * *

Imogen froze as the cloaked figure passed her and continued down the path towards the village. Whoever they were, they seemed in a hurry. They were already a good hundred meters away from her in the other direction now and seemed not to have noticed her standing in the middle of the path as they passed. Imogen watched the stranger's retreating back as she tried to decide what to do. She knew that there was nothing but forest for miles around the school which made it more than likely that this whoever-they-were had come from the castle itself. This worried Imogen greatly, and was made even worse by the way they stuck to the shadows. It was as if this person didn't want to be seen. Memories of Agatha's attack on the school sprang to mind and immediately Imogen ran for the shadows and followed the stranger along the path towards the village. She felt her heart jump into her throat as the realisation of what she was doing really dawned on her. If this person was a witch or wizard she would stand no chance against them. She tried to still her loud breathing as hurried around the corner into the village. Her quarry had done rounded the same corner just thirty seconds before her but Imogen knew that that sort of time would still be more than long enough to disappear. She quickened her pace only to stop abruptly at the entrance to the village. All the shops stood neatly in a row along the high street. Not so much as a cat slunk around the side of any of the buildings. "Shit!"

* * *

Elspeth Everoot could feel her heart beating hard against her breastbone as the loud footsteps in the corridor passed her hiding place. She had barely had time to dash into the store cupboard before whoever-it-was had stormed past. Those footsteps did not sound like they belonged to someone who would appreciate running into a student out of bed. She waited until the corridor was silent once more, counted to one hundred and then slowly opened the door of the store cupboard. It could not be said that Elspeth Everoot was not cautious. She had left her room that night to pay a visit to Griselda Blackwood and discuss their talk with Miss Cackle but had found Griselda's room empty. Just as she quietly closed the cupboard door and began once again to pad softly down the corridor, she heard an equally soft tread coming from the opposite direction. She froze, squinting along the dark corridor at the figure coming towards her. It looked as though it was another student.

"Elspeth?" the girl whispered as she came closer. Elspeth felt a surge of relief to see that it was Griselda.

"Gris! What are you doing up? I've been looking everywhere for you. I have something to tell you."

Griselda looked nervous. "I have something to tell you too."


	3. Chapter 3

_Hey there! I'm sorry this has taken so long to update. That's just kind of how I work I'm afraid. But in my deffence my computer was broken :P I hope you all enjoy. Thank you so much for the reviews! They always make me smile :)_

_Sos xx  
_

**Chapter 3**

Imogen pushed herself angrily against the wall. How could someone just disappear like that? She was surprised to suddenly find herself forcing back tears as all her frustrations finally boiled over. She clenched her fists tightly as scenes of her team being commandeered filled her vision. A laugh almost escaped at the memory as Imogen realised the real reason for her tears. Damn Constance Hardbroom and her ability to make Imogen feel utterly useless! She sniffed, wiping the tears from her face with what was probably now a mucky hand, as she decided what to do next. It made her feel strangely better to have a reason for her feelings and it suddenly occurred to Imogen how dangerous her personal mission could have been. She almost kicked herself for her own stupidity as she realised she had no idea what she would have done had her quarry turned and attacked her. The night suddenly felt a lot colder and Imogen pulled her running jumper tighter around herself. Certainly no good would come of standing beside a cold wall all night. She shivered and stepped around the side of the wall again to take another look at the village. If her memory was correct there should be a good pub just across the road from where she stood. Her eyes quickly found it and the warm light streaming out from inside made her hesitate once more. The place did have an extremely friendly atmosphere and she could certainly use a drink to settle her nerves after such a stressful day. Imogen set off in the direction of The Keys. Just one drink, and then she would go back.

* * *

Constance looked once more at the letter in her hand. It was worn at the edges from being opened and refolded far too much the past few weeks, and was starting to turn yellow from years hidden in a drawer. The writing, however, was as clear and unchanged as the day it had been written. Constance read those words once again as she hesitated outside the door. In truth there was not much to read, he certainly hadn't wasted words. The letter simply told her where and when '_In case you change your mind.'_ She ran her hands across the paper once more, the sweat from her palms adding to the wear around the edges. There was no going back now. Of course, it had occurred to her that any number of circumstances could have changed in the last ten years. It was more than likely she would walk into an empty room. Or worse, a room full of the wrong people waiting for her. The last fear, she knew, was just paranoia. How could anyone have known she would come now? After such a long absence there would be more than one surprised face tonight. Constance took a deep breath to still her nerves and extended a shaking hand towards the door handle.

The door opened into a room that was far too small for the amount of people within. There was clearly a shortage of chairs as people were perched on tables as well as standing in every available space. Had it ever been this full before? Certainly not that Constance could remember. The sight filled her with a sense of hope so sudden and buoyant that there seemed almost no space left inside her for nerves. One man with a mane of black hair stood at the far wall opposite the door. He had a stack of newspapers at his feet and one in his hand which he held open in front of the group. All the attention that had been on him not a moment ago had now been transferred to Constance as everyone in the room turned to see who had entered. There were looks of confusion and excitement spread evenly across the group, punctuated here and there by some worried faces. Not everyone here knew who she was. Constance couldn't stop herself from smiling as she saw the grin from the man with the newspaper. It seemed to cover his entire face as her fought his way across the room to greet her. Constance fought to suppress a laugh as he struggled between people and furniture until at last he reached the doorway where she still stood.

"Bloody hell, you've changed!" He gripped her tightly around the shoulders as they hugged. Samuel Kenwhit was not accustomed to doing things by half. Constance tensed at the sudden uncomfortably close contact but forced herself to endure it. It had been far too long since they had last seen each other and she really had missed him. Samuel took a step back leaving his hands on her shoulders. She hadn't thought it possible for his boyish grin to get any wider but it certainly did as he surveyed her appearance. Constance in turn took the time to look over her old friend once more. By the looks of things she wasn't the only one who had changed. Samuel's face was crisscrossed with premature wrinkles and despite the grin he looked haggard and exhausted. On closer inspection Constance could now make out wings of grey in his once jet black hair and he looked like he good use a good meal. However none of this diminished his obvious glee as he turned, hand now attached to her wrist, and dragged her through the clutter of people and chairs back to his space and stack of newspapers by the wall. The room was now alive with conversation, some not even bothering to whisper. Constance could feel countless pairs of eyes on her back as she followed Samuel through the room, trying in vain to wrench her arm from his grasp. At the table nearest the far wall, people began shifting slightly this way and that to make space for Constance as she and Samuel got closer. As they finally stumbled over the last chair leg, Constance turned towards the table and perched awkwardly on the edge between two other women. The woman on her right was new to Constance. Her auburn hair reached below her shoulders and provided a curtain through which she shot several nervous glances at the witch. Unfortunately it proved an extremely effective two-way mirror as Constance could make out nothing of the other woman, besides the frequent glances in her direction. She decided to ignore her for now and turned instead to the woman on her left, giving her a curt nod of recognition while receiving one herself. Beside the wall, Samuel was attempting to bring the meeting back to order with little success. The last ten years had been a breeding ground for questions and Constance could see them bubbling to the surface with her arrival, Samuel's talk already long forgotten. She would have a lot of explaining to do tonight.

* * *

Griselda sat beside Fenella on the bed as the last of the four girls, Roberta Duskbane, closed the door quietly behind her and began the painstakingly careful journey back to her own room. The two girls left in the room shared a grin. Everything had gone well.

"I told you we could've asked Felicity Goodwillow!" Griselda had been surprised when Elspeth brought her along. She had been one those Griselda had suggested but had received a veto from Fenella just in case.

Fenella rolled her blue eyes. "Yes, yes. Well, we know that now, don't we? Enough of your bragging. I just think it's better to err on the safe side. I mean, she is really girly."

"Yeah but have you seen the way she and Elspeth are together?" Griselda giggled. "A proper femme and butch couple!" Both girls giggled at that.

"Bless them!" Fenella's frown had disappeared as she remembered how the girls acted towards each other. "I don't think they've even figured it out yet. I hope they do soon. They're so cute together."

It was Griselda's turn to roll her eyes now. "Such a hopeless romantic, you are."

The blue eyed girl smiled at her girlfriend. "That's not always a bad thing." She took Griselda's hand in hers and caressed it gently with her thumb. "What was it that Elspeth wanted to speak to you about?"

"We're going to see Miss Cackle tomorrow to see if we can get more training time for netball without bloody HB sticking her nose in. Elspeth's fuming over it all and I don't blame her. Sometimes I think the game's her life. It's what she wants to do when we leave." As she said this, Fenella ran her free hand through Griselda's hair, a motion that never failed to soothe and relax her.

She smiled again. "Do I get a kiss before bed?"

"Of course." Griselda moved towards her girlfriend, their lips touching, sending a wave of contentment over both girls. She grinned once more, the smile seeming to cover her entire face, as she stood up to leave for her own bedroom.

"See you at breakfast!"

* * *

Imogen sat at the bar, her pint almost finished. The weather had made a turn for the worse outside and she was sipping the last of her beer slowly in the hope that she could sit out the worst of it. It didn't look likely. She surveyed the room once more. Everything in here was old and worn. Most of the chairs needed restuffed if not replaced and the wallpaper was beginning to peel at the ceiling. In the corner to her right a group of old men sat smoking pipes and playing the same card game they'd been playing since Imogen had got there. She got the impression that when they finally stood to leave the chairs would be shaped exactly to each man. They were there whenever she visited the pub. Her finger traced the surface of the bar where a heart containing the initials R.E. and . had been carved into the wood. It was all part of what Imogen loved about The Keys. Yes it was certainly old and run down but there was a charm to it all that she couldn't say no to. It felt friendly.

She swallowed the last of her pint and grimaced as the wind howled outside. As she stood to leave a movement at the other end of the pub caught her eye. Imogen's eyes were wide with amazement as she saw the unmistakable figure of Constance Hardbroom emerge from a door in the far corner of the pub. The potions mistress strode through the room without appearing to notice Imogen and pulled up the hood of her long black cloak as she stepped out into the night. Imogen hastily grabbed her running jumper and hurried to follow.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Constance and Samuel sat on mismatching chairs, facing each other across the tiny, circular table. It had the air of a Viking shield, Constance mused as she traced the metal circle in its centre with the long fingers of her right hand. Around her, the few still there were tidying up after the group. The small room had emptied slowly as people left alone or in pairs every few minutes. Doing things this way took a lot longer than letting everyone out at once, but the risk of raising suspicions was too great. As large a group as theirs suddenly appearing from the cellar of the pub would send questions flying, something none of them could afford. Constance was conscious of Samuel's eyes studying her from across the table. She continued to fidget with the metal in front of her, avoiding his gaze as she thought about how best to answer his question.

"I don't know," she admitted eventually. Samuel frowned questioningly at her answer and she sighed, trying to find a better way to explain.

"I'm not sure why I came back. I've spent fifteen years trying to think of anything but..." Constance waved her hand to indicate their surroundings. "...anything but all this. I've been quite successful too. I have a job teaching now, at Cackle's Academy, the school on the hill."

Samuel nodded and it occurred to Constance that he probably knew this already. The man had an uncanny knack for finding out information when he wanted to. Sighing again, she continued.

"I think it was the news this morning that finally settled it. These riots and protests have been getting so frequent and hearing about the sheer numbers of people involved amazes me. I haven't been able to keep my mind off it all day." She looked up at Samuel for the first time since the start of her monologue. "I want to feel like I'm doing something. I want things to change, more than anything, and spending my life in a classroom marking tests certainly isn't going to make that happen."

Samuel raised a speculative eyebrow and seemed to consider his response carefully. Constance Hardbroom wasn't known for taking criticism lightly. Eventually he said, "I don't mean to mother you Constance... Certainly not. But are you sure this is the right thing to do? I mean..." He struggled for words as Constance's gaze intensified, giving him the strange sensation of shrinking under her stare. That look belonged perfectly to the powerful woman he had once known so well and the sight of it again banished any fears he had had for her.

Constance clicked her tongue testily and worked hard to keep herself from rolling her eyes at his words. "I don't mean running around like an imbecile waving rainbow flags and throwing Molotov cocktails at the police, Samuel." Samuel's face darkened with embarrassment at this. "I suppose I just came to tell you that I'm here if you need me. God knows you can't have too much help when you're involved in this business." Samuel grinned at the seriousness on her face and extended a calloused hand towards his companion. Constance shook it grimly, her face a mask of determination.

The last man and woman had finally left the cellar together and now Constance and Samuel sat alone under the pub. The room was a lot colder without the heat of the crowd and Constance pulled her cloak around her shoulders as she felt herself shiver. It was getting late. She stood up and fastened the cloak properly under her chin. "I'd best be getting back now. I'll need to get some sleep before trying to teach anything to those first years." She folded her arms in annoyance. "I've never seen such an incompetent class! And that's including the third years and the disaster that is Mildred Hubble."

Samuel chuckled softly at her anger and stood up to shake her hand once more. "It really is nice to see you again Constance. I hope this means we can keep in touch again. I'll send you updates of how we're doing every so often if you'd like?"

Constance nodded. "Yes, that would be good. It's been nice seeing you again too." The corners of her mouth turned upwards in a rare smile before she turned on her heel and left the cellar.

Imogen hardly heard the grumblings of the other customers as she pushed past them in her hurry to leave the pub. She was determined not to lose sight of the potions' mistress this time but her heart sank as she finally made it to the door, only to see an empty street before her yet again. The rain fell in sheets before her as she struggled to decide what to do. After looking hurriedly down both ends of the high street Imogen decided to try her luck back at the castle. Even if she wasn't heading there now the other woman would have to eventually. Her feet slid this way and that over the cobbled street as she set off for the path back to the school. Her fast walk soon became a stumbling run in an effort to evade the battering wind and rain. At the turn back onto the path Imogen stopped to wipe the water from her eyes as though surfacing from a swimming pool. Her vision was cleared just long enough for her to catch a glimpse of the cloaked figure about twenty metres ahead of her. Determination rushed through her, pushing her forward as she stumbled up the muddy slope. Her heart hammered in her ears, her lungs burning as she fought against the rain and wind. Just as she had almost made up the distance, Imogen's whole body was wrenched violently from below as her foot caught on an exposed root snaking out from the forest. Her cry as she fell alerted the potions' mistress who span 'round in shock, arms raised with powerful incantations ready at her fingertips. A flicker of surprise passed over her pale, stern features at the sight of the woman sprawled across the path before her.

"I was just coming back from my run."

The lie was as pathetic and mud soaked as the woman it came from. Imogen tried to collect herself as quickly as possible, bending down to massage her left ankle in an attempt to avoid her colleague's penetrating stare. As the silence stretched out between them she cursed herself for speaking so suddenly. Top Ways to Look Unquestionably Guilty, by Imogen Drill. She chanced a quick glance at Miss Hardbroom and was surprised to see her face creased with worry. The silence lasted another eternity and just as Imogen started to seriously worry about the danger of hypothermia, Constance spoke.

"How much do you know?"

Her voice was cracked, the words seeming forced out against her wishes.

Imogen didn't know how to respond. The surprise at seeing real fear on the older woman's face must have been obvious in her own features as Constance's usual stern demeanour slowly returned. The women regarded each other a while longer as the gym mistress' thoughts raced around her mind. The other woman's fear from moments ago was now gone but she highly doubted she could get away without answering. Finally, she decided on the truth. Another look at the powerful, graceful woman before her convinced Imogen she would see straight through any lie.

"I was coming back from my run..." she admitted slowly. "But about an hour ago really. And then I saw you walking down towards the village. I didn't know it was you at the time, so I followed..."

Constance made her displeasure known, curving her eyebrow into an elegant arch above her long, straight nose. Imogen's stomach contracted sharply. This really hadn't started well.

"It wasn't an invasion of your privacy or anything..." _Stop digging!_ "I was just worried that the school could be in danger."

The other woman said nothing to this so she continued.

"And then when I reached the village you had already disappeared so I went for a pint and, well, that's it really."

Giving what she hoped looked like a natural shrug, Imogen averted her gaze and continued to massage her ankle which by now had started to swell.

"You saw me in the pub."

It wasn't a question. Imogen stiffened before slowly nodding her head. She didn't dare look up at the witch who so easily made her feel like a guilty school girl. A guilty school girl who hadn't done anything wrong. Not really. She felt the familiar anger rising in her chest. Who was this woman but a colleague? A colleague who certainly had no right to make her feel like this. Looking up, she opened her mouth to say precisely that, only to see the other woman striding down the path to where she still sat on the ground. A strong hand gripped her arm and pulled her roughly to her feet.

"_Don't_ lie to me again."

Imogen winced as the threat was hissed in her ear. Biting back any retorts she may have had, she shivered. Never before had the younger woman seen such anger directed at her. Satisfied that her message had been received, Constance turned on her heel and strode back up the path, leaving Imogen to limp back to the castle alone.

Constance's chest tightened like a clamp as fear and anger fought out their battle inside her. Her first time back in fifteen years and she had been so close to getting caught! With Cackle's Academy now in sight, she stopped to lean against the wall as the familiar panic clutched at her chest. She closed her eyes, trying desperately to calm herself and ease her breathing. The thought of Miss Drill, who couldn't be very far behind her now, finding her in the grip of a panic attack was less than welcome. As a distraction, Constance turned her gaze to the castle above her. The towering building was seen by few at night but it was in the darkness that Constance found it the most majestic. The dark walls and turrets seemed impossibly tall as they faded into the night sky, the line between the two almost imperceptible in most places. Almost all windows were now invisible against the stone with only the odd burning light here and there, as if left as reminders that the castle was indeed inhabited. Constance clicked her tongue as she noticed one of these windows was the library. It wasn't the worst place for a student to be out of hours but nevertheless, homework should be done in the girls' free time, not at the last minute. That's what they were given so much free time for after all. The night was clear and cold once more as the storm finally moved on and despite the ebb in Constance's panic she leaned against the wall a little longer, savouring the feel of the cold, clean wind on her face. Cackle's Accademy. It had a calming effect on her, the sort of feeling she assumed most people must associate with home. With that in mind Constance rejoined the path and made her way back to the school. She quickened her pace, deciding to head straight for the kitchen where she would make herself a calming cup of tea before bed. Constance turned the corner into the castle grounds and all thoughts of tea vanished at the sight of a very familiar, displeased figure in front of her.


End file.
